


Huggable Little Bastards

by lizzledpink



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzledpink/pseuds/lizzledpink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Avengers plushies were hugged, and one time Avengers were instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Huggable Little Bastards

**Author's Note:**

> Well, [Glitz](http://glitteringworlds.tumblr.com) requested any Avenger snuggling with another Avenger's stuffed animal-plush-whatever thing. I obliged. A lot. Except maybe with Thor.

1.

"Holy shit," Tony Stark said. "Holy shit," Tony Stark said again. "Holy _shit,_ I need to give Pepper the best cun - night of her life," Tony Stark finished. By this time, he had gathered the attention of all the Avengers, who quite frankly were rather irritated by his outburst.

"Fuck you, Stark. You made Thor miss the pink on Wednesdays line," Clint called out. "We're gonna have to rewind."

Tony grinned, and looked up from the box in his hands. "Worth it. Apparently SI owns some part of the rights to the Avengers, because check these babies out." Grinning madly, he reached into the box and pulled out a small plushie replica of Iron Man, complete with absurdly large head.

Natasha's eyebrows disappeared hazily into the lower stratosphere.

Bruce snorted, swallowing his popcorn quickly to quip, "Narcissist."

"Hey! Blatant - okay, truth, but no, look at these things!" Tony set the box on the ground and pulled more of them out, revealing one for everybody on the team. He propped them against the side of the box, letting them sit up. "They're adorable. And Pepper says if you just send her an email she'll be happy to get you any plushie you want. Probably without telling me, too, so I can't use the material as blackmail. I'm not even mad, these are precious."

"She gave you _all_ of those?" asked Clint.

"Yep. Don't be jealous, Clint, it's not becoming."

Steve actually got out of his chair, coming to look at the plushies. "Huh," he said thoughtfully. He picked up mini-Captain by the helmet wings. "And people are buying these?"

"Don't worry, Cap, your sales figures are still highest," said Tony, who patted Steve on his head fondly. Cap was still too astonished by the Captain America doll to react (which was probably what Tony had planned for in the first place).

"What will you do with these dolls?" Thor asked, puzzled.

Tony shrugged. "Whatever the hell I want, right? They're cool. Anyway, let her know, you guys. I'm off to find the plushie Avengers spots in my room, as soon as Cap stops staring at his own manufactured cotton-polyester ass."

"You're just jealous because mine has one and yours is stuck with armor," Steve replied easily, handing it over. Tony winked, gave Captain Plushie a little hug, and put him back in the box before putting the others back, too. Steve shook his head and returned to his seat.

Clint called out, "Show and tell over now?"

Tony, walking to his bedroom with one arm around the box, flipped him the bird.

(In his pocket, Tony had a Post-It note. Its contents were already memorized, so he didn't need to bring it out to run it again through his mind.

_Tony, I know you get lonely in bed when we're away from each other, so I thought you might appreciate some friends. Love, P._

Yeah, he wasn't throwing that one away.)

2.

Thor tucked himself into bed, and curled an arm around the plushie Thor, careful not to squeeze too hard or accidentally cover its little smiling thread-made mouth. 

"I imagine you have had a good day," he said to the doll. "Relaxing in the sunshine, as befits a warrior who has earned his rest. I envy you, my friend.

"For you, life is a simpler thing, small Thor. You have made no mistakes, and have no regrets. Meanwhile, I often go over mine: not by choice, but simply because they haunt me, and most likely will continue to do so until such time as I feel I have righted things. My brother, Loki - I should have realized long ago what ailed him, I should have aided him and supported him instead of acting in arrogance, as though I were the only worthy one, the only man who could possibly know the true course to take. I cannot but think that all this could have been avoided had I simply learned my lesson earlier."

Thor sighed, and softly stroked the head of the Thor plushie.

"And my life now is fraught with peril as it is. My friends and I go into battle so often. I used to think that I life of constant fighting was glorious, but now it brings me worry. Though my friends are all strong in their own ways, they are still mortal, and I still fear that one day, one will slip. And Jane's anger over my broken promise has not lessened. Even though she says she wants it to, I fear it never will.

"I am thankful I may tell you these things, my friend. They need not burden you as they do me, weighing ever on my shoulders. Regardless, now, we sleep."

Inching himself further into the covers, Thor turned on his side, one arm still carefully wrapped around small Thor, and closed his eyes.

(A non-judgmental, listening comrade is never a bad thing.)

3.

The knock at her door was unexpected, which was why Natasha had no time to react when the door opened, and Clint peeked in. She was caught red-handed.

"Hey, Tasha, did Tony - whoa."

Natasha glared at him and held the little Hawkeye doll tighter in defiance. "What?"

"You have a Clint Barton plushie," he said. There was a look of awe on his face, and almost unconsciously he stepped into her room.

"Yes."

"What are you watching? Is it dirty?"

"It's just Community, idiot."

"Said the woman who is watching TV and  _cuddling with a toy version of me._ "

Natasha sighed. "If you're going to be an asshole about it, get out of here. I'm not in the mood for games, Clint."

"Sorry." Clint backed off, hands raised in surrender. "I just - why? I'm not surprised you have one, but me? I figured you'd have Cap. Or maybe Iron Man, just so you can make fun of him behind his plushie back. Not me."

"Well, you were wrong." Natasha sighed, and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "It makes me feel safe, okay? Don't make it a bigger deal than it is."

"I won't, so long as you accept that it's a huge deal to me, and a huge compliment," he said quietly, a tiny smile quirking at the edges of his lips. "I'm flattered. Please, grope my miniature self all you like."

"Gladly. And what about you, Barton? Who makes you feel safe, huh?"

Clint snorted. "Hell, no. I really don't have one. My masculinity is far too fragile and wouldn't survive the blow if someone found out." He slowly backed out of the room, closing the door.

"Yeah, and Jeff and Britta haven't had sex at all," Natasha retorted. Clint wisely didn't shout through the door a reply.

With a relieved sigh, she tugged the little Hawkeye figure back up to her lap, settling it between her legs comfortably, and crossed her arms back around it.

(She told herself that she liked that the plushie version wasn't quite so mouthy. It was only mostly a lie.)

4.

On arrival to the Helicarrier, Phil Coulson requested a moment of time out from the bridge, and got it while avoiding Nick Fury's knowing glance.

Walking through the corridors was still a strange experience. He was much more used to groundwork and driving on his own to missions. The Helicarrier was a center of command, not a location of work. Phil knew his place - he was Fury's man for all the dirty work Fury was too busy commanding others to touch. Not that Phil was complaining.

Still, someone had to be Steve Rogers' handler for the moment, and it might as well be the walking encyclopedia Captain America.

Phil scratched the back of his neck, absently moving aside to let somebody pass through the door on the way to his locker. 

The room was empty, for which he was happy. He found his locker quickly and opened it with his passcode almost without thought. With a sigh, he gazed over the contents.

"I guess you're a little weird now, huh? This should be more weird." He pulled the Captain America doll out of the locker gently, still a little nervous about being caught. It was an old doll, made decades ago, but aside from a torn seam on one arm it still looked as good as new, or at least, well taken care of. "Don't worry, buddy. You're still more handsome. I will admit his costume's better, though. Of course." He gave the doll a warm little squeeze, and put it back into the locker.

It helped a bit. The frisson of nerves that had been haunting him in the past few hours started to dissipate slightly. End of the world? Maybe. Norse gods trying to kill people? Yeah. Possible Avengers? Great. Okay.

"Yeah. You're still my hero," he mumbled under his breath.

Feeling just a little bit calmer, Phil started to reach into his jacket pocket when the door creaked open.

Caught off guard, Phil's entire body jumped and his hand shot straight to his hip, touching his gun.

"Putting your cards away for safekeeping? Cute, Coulson."

Fuck. Hill. He forced himself to relax. Goddamn, just when he was beginning to refocus, too.

"That depends if you came over here to give Applejack's mane a brush stroke or not."

"You know it's -"

"For your niece, I know," Phil finished dryly. "At least I _admit_ I'm sometimes six years old, Hill. Embrace your inner brony." Requisite one-upmanship established, Phil reached into his jacket pocket, took out his vintage Captain America cards, and put them carefully in his locker before shutting it tight.

This mission was going to be dangerous. He wasn't leaving them in the line of fire to get damaged somehow. No damn way.

(Posthumously, the Avengers all silently agreed: he may not have been, not really, but they would always consider Phil Coulson an Avenger. He deserved it.)

5.

"Huggable little bastards," mumbled Clint, holding the plushie tight as he attempted to drift into sleep. "So not even fair. Stupid Tasha; it's not about safe. It's... Hulk's my bro. And nobody buys him because apparently he's a monster. Fuck that noise. Hulk's great. Hulk's..." Clint yawned. "Destructive. Destruction's fun, I get it. Not my fault Bruce has a stick up his ass... Cutest plushie anyway. Like green. Gotta stick up for my pal, y'know..."

Clint fell asleep.

(Thor found out in three weeks, and spoke "not a word.")

1.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Steve stumbled into the main room at around 2:30 in the morning and almost tripped over some kind of mattress.

"What...?" he muttered. Squinting and waiting for his eyes to adjust, he found the coffee table had been moved behind the couch, and one side of the couch had transformed into a bed somehow. On it were two figures - Thor and Bruce apparently, and Bruce was somehow cuddled into Thor's side. Thor was sound asleep, breathing deeply.

"Stop staring," he heard Bruce mumble. "You're looming. Relax."

"How...?"

"We pulled the bed out of the sofa... Do you know about pull-out sofas? They're great. We were watching a late movie and..." Bruce rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "Thor's comfortable. Like a giant teddy bear with biceps."

"I... couldn't sleep," Steve said, because his tired brain hadn't quite figured the situation out yet.

"Try here. I bet it'll work."

"What?"

"Pick a spot and cuddle, Captain. It doesn't have to be a big deal. Trust me."

Steve was starting to get the idea, and maybe he was just exhausted and riddled with insomnia, but it was also starting to sound nice. "Are you sure you haven't been replaced by Tony? Usually he's the one talking me into crazy things."

"Just lie the hell down before you wake me up entirely," Bruce mumbled, closing his eyes again. "Or go. Your call."

Steve couldn't think of a good way to argue against that. Maybe this was strange, but every muscle in his body was asking for it, so for once he'd ignore the little voice that told him this was a bad idea. He shrugged out of his jeans, dropping them on the floor, and carefully got on the bed beside Bruce dressed only in a t-shirt and his boxers.

Bruce shifted a little and wrapped a warm arm around Steve, and Steve shut his eyes. This was... okay.

It'd been too long since he'd slept feeling somebody else's body heat next to him, warming him. Not since he and Bucky were young and scared and had nobody else, nowhere else to go. He didn't know he'd missed that.

Sleeping by, touching Bruce, felt nice. Brushing his arm against Thor's was even nicer.

Steve found himself drifting. At some point in the night, Natasha appeared, and disappeared again on the other side of Thor. Clint walked in and almost walked out, until Natasha called him over with an insult Steve didn't quite recall. At some point later, Tony made a small noise as he quietly collapsed, right on top of Steve's side. Steve laughed silently, because of course Tony would.

"What, you didn't invite me?" Tony murmured not far from Steve's ear, and Steve laughed again, trying not to move too much and wake Bruce. He didn't respond, and Tony went quiet, and that was alright.

Clint snored a little, and somehow that was alright too.

(Sunrise came and woke Steve up, but he didn't move because he was happy where he was. He later figured out the others felt the same.)


End file.
